


Pinky Promises (I Got No Strings On Me)

by rightsidethru



Series: The Child of Frost and Flame [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Magic, Fandom Loves Puerto Rico, Gen, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Post Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Professor!Peter Hale, Ravenclaw!Kira, Slytherin!Stiles, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightsidethru/pseuds/rightsidethru
Summary: There was a boy at Hogwarts whose shadow stretched down the corridors in a fox’s sly silhouette, forever grinning and tinged with the Void.**Kira is the first to see the things that go unnoticed by everyone else--and decides to reach out for a connection that ties two destinies together through the Red String of Fate.





	Pinky Promises (I Got No Strings On Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubyredhoodling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubyredhoodling/gifts).



> I participated in the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico charity auction just recently, and Rubyredhoodling was one of the bidders (and winners!) who was able to claim a story from me. Ruby requested a Kira-centric story set in The Child of Frost and Flame 'verse.
> 
> Thank you for bidding and contributing for such a great cause, and I hope that you enjoy your story! <3
> 
> **
> 
> Takes place during the latter part of [Mantle of Green & Crown of Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11836782)/late fall.
> 
> I included an Easter egg in this particular installment; a gold star goes to the person who finds it. ;)
> 
> **
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! <3
> 
> **
> 
> http://rightsidethru.tumblr.com

_“Sometimes it was possible for me to believe he had practised an enchantment upon me, as foxes in this country may, for, here, a fox can masquerade as human and at the best of times the high cheekbones gave to his face the aspect of a mask.”_  
– Angela Carter

++

There was a boy at Hogwarts whose shadow stretched down the corridors in a fox’s sly silhouette, forever grinning and tinged with the Void. No one else seemed to see it, student and professor alike going about their days like nothing had changed: laughter filling the air, paired with the frustrated moaning of students with too many projects—normal things, _everyday_ things that had become so commonplace since England’s Second Wizarding War.

Kira stepped off to the side, back pressed to the cool stone that made up the castle’s foundations, and carefully watched as the Slytherin transfer student headed down the hall to his next class—amber gaze intent, alight with a multitude of thoughts in his bubble of silence that surrounded Stiles day after day. The other sixteen year-old had been at Hogwarts for five weeks now, and Kira had yet to see him reach out and connect with any other student.

She wondered if he was lonely. If he felt the disconnect, as well.

Glancing after the teenage boy, Kira caught sight of the briefest flicker of tarnished silver—a knowing gaze that met her own—and the Japanese girl shuddered as her fingers curled tightly over the worn leather of the books she’d checked out from the library earlier that day.

Laughter came, dark and fae, and Kira was careful not to let her shoes brush against that eerie, elongated shadow even as she finally turned to head down the corridor, hurrying so that she wouldn’t be late to her own class. Goosepimples raised the fine hairs along her arms, and the sloe-eyed girl didn’t turn back to glance over the curve of a shoulder—didn’t see, then, the way that Stiles eyed the Ravenclaw, gaze thoughtful and considering even as Kuugeki shifted just enough to settle the bulk of its weight against the line of his thigh.

++

“Kira, come here. There is something that your father and I must discuss with you.”

The ten year-old girl flinched in surprise, guiltily putting a hand behind her back before glancing up at her mother with wide, innocent eyes. She knew that her mother had caught her in a moment of idleness, putting off her duties around the family shrine in favor of trying to reach for the lowest-hanging cherry blossom branch—wanting to pick it for herself to carry during her duties before placing it at the feet of her favorite kitsune statue.

Kira fidgeted beneath the mock sternness that turned his mother’s gaze cold, unable to lift her eyes and instead keeping her attention settled upon the flagstones at her feet.

Noshiko allowed the teaching moment to extend for a moment or two longer before finally reaching out to thread her fingers through her daughter’s silky hair, cupping the back of the little girl’s head to coax her a step—two—closer. The witch crouched down, easier balancing on the balls of her feet, and tucked an unruly strand of hair behind the delicate shell of Kira’s ear.

“None of that now,” the Japanese woman chided quietly before cupping her daughter’s pale face between her hands, shifting just enough to have Kira finally meet her gaze completely. “I know that you’ve been working hard to prepare the shrine for Risshun. You deserve to take breaks while you’re working,” Noshiko continued before reaching up to pluck a sprig from the early-blooming cherry blossom tree, tucking it behind her daughter’s ear.

The bit of reassurance made Kira light up in return, and the little girl moved up on the very tips of her toes to snap off a little sprig of her own to tuck in the elegant up-do that her mother had pulled her hair into for the day. “I’m almost done, Mama,” Kira promised, voice earnest as her fingers resettled upon her broom. “I just need to finish the Northwest quadrant and then everything should be all ready. I wanted to finish everything today!”

“Well, if it doesn’t get finished until tomorrow, that’s all right, too, Kira. Your father and I have something that we have to talk to you about,” the witch said, glancing over her shoulder to meet Ken’s dark gaze as he stepped out from the main family building. He offered both wife and daughter a smile in turn, though her parents’ unusual behavior immediately had the little girl on edge.

“What is it…?” Kira asked, knuckles going white as she tightened her hold on the broom’s handle.

“I know that you noticed, Kira, because you were asking about why so many owls had been coming and going from our home over the past month,” Ken began, stepping up to stand next to Noshiko as he settled a hand over her shoulder. He waited until Kira nodded at the reminder of the numerous questions that she had peppered her father with over the course of several weeks, and Ken’s smile softened as he settled into seiza so that he was eyelevel with Kira. “I’ve been writing letters back and forth with the Oxford University of Magic, and they asked if I would come and be their Head for their Magical History Department.”

The implications of what that might mean were almost immediate, and the girl shifted her attention to Noshiko as the pace of her heartbeats began to quicken. “…but Mama works at the Ministry in Tokyo,” Kira pointed out.

“And I’ve been offered an Unspeakable position in the _English_ Ministry of Magic,” Noshiko said, cutting off Kira’s forming argument before it could get started.

Kira floundered at that, clutching so tightly at the broom’s handle now that the grooves that made up the wood were pressing roughly into the palms of her hands, leaving behind bright red marks as the little girl groped for any sort of foundation that would steady her and keep her from having to face the end of the conversation that she knew was coming.

“I’m supposed to start boarding at Mahoutokoro next year,” the girl reminded her parents, fear and an edge of desperation creeping into her voice. “Yukiko and I wanted to be roommates—we’ve already started planning what we wanted our room to look like! And… and… I was going to start pre-training on being a miko soon! Mama! Papa… I can’t do that if we’re not here, at our shrine.”

“I’m sorry, Kira,” her father said, and it truly looked like Ken was apologetic for the displacement that he was going to put upon his daughter—but there was an edge of steel within his eyes, and from that alone, Kira knew that her parents would not be changing their minds from the decision that they had already obviously settled upon. “But we’re going to be moving to England.”

Desperation taking precedence now, Kira dropped the broom so that she could clutch tightly at her mother’s arms, eyes large and imploring. “Can’t… can’t I go and stay with Helen?” the girl asked, trying frantically to come up with a solution that would allow her to stay and to be with the friends that had been such a cornerstone of her life since she started attending Mahoutokoro. “Korea’s not that far away, so I can still go to school _here_ , and I promise that I’ll behave and that I won’t interrupt her studies—“

Ken shook his head at that, denying Kira that option, as well. Despite being a squib, Kira’s half-sister had always been comfortable in straddling both Magic and non-Magic worlds, though she had finally opted to attend a non-Magic university to study medicine there; but the issue wasn’t whether or not Helen would be able to look after her little sister, and Ken knew that he and Noshiko would not be asking that of her.

“Kira. It’s decided,” Noshiko informed her daughter even as Kira began to silently cry, staring at her mother and father with wide, hurt eyes.

++

Kira watched as the beans scattered from her father’s hand, pelting the festival-goers who wore masks depicting monsters and demons from both Muggle and Magical stories. The beans _clitter-clatter_ ed over masks and shoulders and the stone of the shrine’s flooring, and her fingers fisted in the bright red material of her hakama.

“Oni wa soto; fuku wa uchi!” Ken called out-- _demons begone; good luck come in!_ \--over and over again until the festival-goers finally called time-out with laughter and bared smiles, giving up under the older man’s too accurate aim.

 _Too late for all of that_ , Kira thought glumly, turning her head just enough to catch sight of some of the Yukimura’s moving boxes.

++

Hogwarts was nothing like Mahoutokoro; it was drafty and cold and the architecture was thick and forbidden—obviously a defense against outside forces first before it was a school—and lacked the heavy atmosphere, the taste of magic that had developed and settled over millennia, that Kira had come to know as thoroughly as a best friend. There was no weight that settled upon her shoulders the moment that she crossed the ward line, and there was something lost within her as the Japanese girl stared up at the candle-lit windows across the glass-like surface of the Black Lake.

This was not home, but she was asked to make it one.

Later, as she was settled upon the stool and the Sorting Hat plopped unceremoniously upon her head, Kira jerked in surprise as she felt the artefact poking around in her mind—immediately offended by the lack of privacy granted to her and utterly aghast by the fact that the parents of the students not only condoned such a breach but also considered it a rite of passage to enter into their alumna mater.

 _Shitsurei ne!_ she snapped at the Sorting Hat before pausing and switching to the English it would actually be able to understand: _How rude!_

The Sorting Hat chuckled at the scolding, carefully withdrawing its presence from the girl’s mind. _I do believe that you’re the first to ever scold me for Sorting them, Miss Yukimura,_ it replied, and a little bit of the tenseness of her shoulders relaxed as it settled just outside her mental barriers. _If it’s any consolation to you—and, if so, I know that it must be a poor one—I’m bound by Magic to keep my various discoveries to myself. I’m allowed to Sort you; nothing more._

 _You could Sort just as easily doing an Aura reading_ , the girl answered back, feathers still ruffled—and hackles raising higher still as she felt the Hat’s muted amusement at her rebuttal. _Since your Houses are defined by such vague qualities; you don’t have to dig into **minds** for that._

The Sorting Hat’s amusement slowly dissipated at that particular comment, and it hummed thoughtfully as it considered Kira’s argument. _True enough,_ it answered, and the girl felt it pull even farther away. _Perhaps that’ll change in the future. It gets tiring, after all, of staying to same routine century after century, especially when such a logical counter-solution is presented so neatly. I think that you’ll do rather well in--_ “RAVENCLAW!”

++

There was a shift within the student body, though most overlooked it—or didn’t understand just what it meant.

But Kira watched from her spot at her House table as Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Severus Potter began to follow after Stiles Stilinski, trailing after the sixth year like a pair of ducklings: but so, too, could the miko see how the duo gleamed, bladed and as sharp as matched swords—hidden in midnight shadows and silvered like moonlight. Destiny and Fortune shifted as the boys glanced towards the older Slytherin, and Fortune’s Wheel creaked ominously the first time that Kira caught sight of the Malfoy heir reaching out to wrap his fingers around Stiles’ wrist.

Perhaps it was the gifts that came with the priestess training or perhaps it was a family legacy that had lain dormant until she was born, but the world was stretching out beyond Hogwarts’ reach, patterning itself into a shogi board—and Kira could see various pieces shifting and coming into play around her, even as Sente’s—Black’s—king went about his day, nothing more than an ordinary transfer student for those who bothered to glance his way.

She saw the holly crown settled upon his brow.  
The silver-eyed fox that lived within the boy’s shadow.  
The would-be generals that stood at his shoulders.  
The beta-now-Alpha werewolf who watched him with a predatory gaze.

And glanced down at her pinky finger and the red string tied there, aware of where it led—and _knowing_ , too, that Kira would eventually have to make a decision as to what she planned to do about it.

++

Classes were… hard.

Noshiko and Ken had decided to let Kira learn English through immersion and not through the use of a translation spell; she had already had a solid enough foundation while attending public school since English had been a required class, and Kira had opted to continue it when she started up her day classes at Mahoutokoro.

But learning something in a classroom setting was vastly different than what she was dealing with now.

Coursework was something that she struggled with considering the fact that all of her texts were written in English; at times, the professors had to repeat themselves several times before she understood their question. Answers were oftentimes simplistic in nature as Kira groped uselessly for the vocabulary that she was still building, trying to get her meaning across when so many words were still out of her reach.

She was foreign and strange, difficulty to communicate with, and hard to relate to: an odd mix of pureblood history and non-magic understanding of the world at large; pop culture had always been a favorite pastime of Kira and her friends, and the loss of connection was a glaring one when she was unable to even talk with Muggle-raised students about favorite television shows. The confusion and lack of comprehension on her end whenever Doctor Who was mentioned, and the blank stares she received in turn when Kira tried to talk about Tiger & Bunny.

Loneliness was a constant companion—her only one, to be honest—and after months of trying to reach out to both House and classmates, Kira eventually just… stopped. Stopped trying, stopped attempting to start conversations as her English improved, stopped being the one to first approach the groups of friends that were already starting to form. It was obvious from the start that the Japanese transfer student was the odd man out, and the student population was isolated enough that it didn’t take long before Kira was treading water: hoping that someone would notice that she was alone and stranded and would greatly appreciate someone—anyone, honestly—reaching out a hand to assist her.

But no one did.

So Kira focused her attention on her schoolwork and indulged herself in long, rambling letters to the friends back home (ignoring how the letters grew further and further apart in replies as the years went on), and spent the allowance that her parents gave her on the manga series she still followed and English comics she picked up during her visits to Muggle London. Marvel’s X-Men series became a particular favorite of the girl’s—Sage and Omega Sentinel were characters who had caught her attention early on, though Kira had recently become a voracious reader of the Iron Man comics, as well.

The stories helped with the loneliness, though Kira knew that it would never be quite enough.

(And she couldn’t help but be angry and resentful of that, as well, though it never showed past the always hopeful curve of her smile as she spoke awkwardly with others during mealtimes and group projects.)

Always, never changing, never shifting:

_She wanted to go **home**._

++

The Room of Requirement was easy enough to find once you followed the clues that previous generations had left behind. Perhaps no one at school nowadays cared to track down the one-time legendary Room or perhaps no one else had a use for it—and so the students of _now_ were more than willing to let it fade into obscurity, turning back to legend until it became nothing more than a story told by others who spoke of the Boy-Who-Lived and the Second Wizarding War.

It was a useful sort of place that Kira oftentimes found herself visiting: from January to May, the Room became an exact match to the family shrine that the Yukimuras had left in others’ hands while they were gone; the cherry blossom trees that had always been Kira’s favorite bloomed throughout the room, and she always made sure to don her miko garb—stark in red and white—to sit by the river’s shoreline as she watched it become so thick with petals that it became a ribbon of soft pink, threading through the property. It was a peaceful sort of picture, one retreated to when the disconnect in the outside world throbbed the strongest within the confines of her chest: here, Kira sat and remembered.

 _I want more than this_ , she thought as something sparked to life, burning within her heart: a desperate _need_ for the sort of change that her classmates wouldn’t allow, everyone around her so settled into the status quo—a new generation of Tradition—that blinders were once again descending over happily oblivious gazes. A single, solitary sort of connection, nothing more: and Kira would have been satisfied.

_I want…_

++

Their shadows stretched long and dark, extending from one end of the Great Hall to the other: flaring like wings, encompassing and stretching wide to swallow anything and everything within their embrace. There was a threat and reassurance both to that particular knowledge, and Kira wondered how long it would take before others began to realize it.

She stared down at the red tie knotted around her pinky, weighing what she wanted to do with it considering she knew just where it led—

The miko picked it up, twisting it between her fingers even as that spark buried next to her heart burned that much brighter: a supernova’s explosion, strong enough to leave ash and dust in its wake, electrifying everything that it touch in a lightning storm’s promised kiss. _I **want**_ , Kira thought once more, and lifted her gaze to watch as the Slytherin transfer and his two ducklings made their way out of the Hall.

++

“Hello. Can I sit here?”

The group of Slytherin students—the blond and dark-haired first years and the sixth year transfer—glanced up from where they were comfortably settled amongst the oak tree’s roots, cradled safely within its embrace and out of sight of most of the school. Albus and Scorpius shared a brief glance, confused as to what the Ravenclaw student was doing here, but Stiles stared up at Kira with a surprisingly neutral expression, though she could see a wealth of thoughts shifting like quicksilver within that amber gaze of his.

“Sure,” the other sixteen year-old eventually said, gesturing towards a portion of the large flannel blanket that was currently unoccupied. “There’s plenty of room for one more.”

Scorpius stirred from where he was lazily slumped against the older Slytherin, nose twitching tellingly as he caught the scent of something warm and vaguely sweet. “You brought food?” he asked hopefully, gray eyes lightening with interest and the onset of hunger both.

Kira offered a rather shaky smile in reply, hiding her nervousness the best that she could—aware, though, that it would most likely be caught by that too-knowing look in Stiles’ eyes and the way that he watched her, head slightly tilted to the side. Instead, she gathered together the fortitude that had forged itself into the steel blade of her will-- _I want more than this._ \--and answered the first year: “I did. In Japan, it’s traditional to bring a gift when you’re visiting someone’s home. This isn’t a house, but… well. I’m intruding, so I thought that it was only fair that I brought something in return.”

Both Albus and Stiles were now leaning forward, curiosity readily evident in all three pairs of eyes that settled upon Kira’s emptied schoolbag. She quirked a small smile, its edge surprisingly sharp considering the lingering nervousness, and reached in to pull out a carefully wrapped platter of fried tofu packets that were stuffed to the brim with rice.

“What are they?” Albus asked, curiosity heightening even further as he scooted himself closer. He paused for a moment, glancing up at Kira to ask silent permission—picking up one of the treats to try the moment she inclined her head in confirmation.

“It’s called inarizushi,” Stiles answered as a sly, fox-like smile slowly began to curl the edges of his mouth upwards. “They’re a snack—a treat—in Japan, though there are lots of stories told about how inarizushi happens to be a favorite food of the zenko… celestial foxes who are servants of one of the main Shinto gods,” the boy clarified when both Albus and Scorpius turned confused expressions his way.

Kira tilted her head to the side at that, gesture bird-like, and evenly met Stiles’ amber gaze with her own dark one. “I always thought that _all_ foxes were fond of inarizushi, not just the celestial ones,” she said, voice soft even as the shadows flickered tellingly just over the curve of the Slytherin’s shoulder. Tarnished silver eyes stared back at Kira, and she continued: “Even yako have to eat, too, after all.”

“…so they do.”

Albus and Scorpius exchanged glances, aware enough of the fact that a secondary conversation was happening that they weren’t privy to; but understanding was set aside—knowing that Stiles would explain should he feel the need to do so—in favor of eating more of Kira’s gift.

If the inarizushi didn’t last as long as the boys had originally thought the food would…

Well, Stiles and Kira both knew _why_.

++

The air was chilly, so high up upon the Astronomy Tower: midnight had come long ago and detentions would be given if they were found, but there was a carelessness to Kira’s concerns that was finally—liberating, refreshing, _different_ from the years past, and the threat of punishment wasn’t a large enough one to encourage her into leaving. She closed her eyes as the wind picked up, letting it howl against her ears, and the Japanese girl finally allowed herself to feel _free_.

It had been a feeling that she had been lacking since coming to England and now that she finally had it in her grasp… nothing would ever make her let it go.

Her feet dangled over the edge of the balustrade, swinging idly back and forth—free—in the open air: it was easy enough to ignore just how far up they were, the ground a threat hundreds of feet down below; but none of it mattered, not when the constellations spun in dizzying circles ahead and painted out futures and destinies in brushstrokes streaked in starshine.

A laugh bubbled up from within Kira’s chest, and she let it out even as the familiar velveteen brush of fur against her cheek punctuated the sound and made it echo eerily.

“Any regrets?” Stiles asked as he shifted against her, leaning his weight against her side and letting his heat become something to cling to—tight and secure, a reassurance against the dark of the night with dawn hours yet from coming.

Kira glanced down at their hands, side-by-side, and quirked a smile at the red string tied to her pinky—the crimson yarn dipped down and over the edge of the railing, far enough that it hinted towards just how much this particular connection would be able to stretch and bend but never break, and the sixteen year-old girl allowed that smile to deepen as she saw how it came to an end on the opposite pinky that just barely brushed against her own.

A tie, a connection: not necessarily romantic in nature--but always, _always_ present between two people who would have a profound impact on each other’s lives.

(A guarantee, as well, that she wouldn’t ever be alone—this was a _friend_ and so much more.)

The miko braced her weight against Stiles’ warmth in turn, breathing in the scent of ozone and fox-musk and the sort of joyous freedom that came unchained, tucked away in the depths of hill and dale--and so, too, unapologetic _power_ , terrifying in its breadth and grasp--and laid her head comfortably in the crook of the other teen’s neck; both shifted their attention out over the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest beyond, watching as the forest came alive with creatures that were never seen by daylight. 

Stiles leaned down in turn, and Kira could feel the phantom prickle of holly leaves against the plane of her cheek.

“No,” Kira answered, response simple and true.

And happy in that choice.

::fin::


End file.
